


Motes & Motors: Petrichor

by martieek



Series: Motes & Motors [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fist Fights, Guilt, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Late at Night, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Injuries, Non-Graphic Violence, Reconciliation, basically yes there is violence resulting in injury but its not gross or life-threatening, just a very stressful situation, read at your own discretion all the same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 09:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14422698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martieek/pseuds/martieek
Summary: Fears are realized, Shiro is pushed to the limit of control, but nothing is ever completely hopeless.





	Motes & Motors: Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel it's necessary to tag this with "Graphic Violence," but there is a fight scene resulting in injury, and while not in a particularly gross or explicit way, it is still violence so if that is uncomfy for you, please read with discretion, or feel free to skip out on reading this one.
> 
> This is my longest fic yet, twice as long as the others I've written so far, but it's mostly stress/angsty stuff. Sorry if that's not your cup of tea! I won't be offended at all if you prefer not to read. But understand when I say I really had to write this scene, so if you're willing to get through it, it'd mean a lot to me! There is a bit of softer comfort toward the end, so hopefully you won't feel too awful when it's over.

“We should have planned the late-night snack run better,” Matt said, binning the cup from the order of gas station fries he’d split with Shiro.  “Maybe next time we go somewhere before three in the morning for real food.”

“What, you don’t like my cooking?” Shiro said, feigning offense.  “I worked hard asking Hunk for those fries.  I even _paid_ for them.”

Matt laughed, taking Shiro’s hand as they started across the street.  “You’re right; this is the height of luxury.”

“Hey, we make due.”  Reaching the opposite sidewalk, Shiro stepped in front of Matt to stop him in his tracks with the intention of a kiss, but he stopped when Matt’s smile faltered as his eyes flicked over Shiro’s shoulder.

On high alert from seeing the apprehension in Matt’s face, Shiro instinctively assumed a defensive stance as he turned to face the approaching figures.   He recognized their presence immediately, his fight-or-flight response kicking in hard with a burning sensation in his gut.  _Not now,_ was all he thought.  _Not with Matt._

Shiro’s tension apparent, Matt placed an uncertain hand on his arm. As Dax and his two minions became visible in the dim fluorescence, Shiro extended his arm in a way to keep Matt behind him, eyes never straying from the threat.

“We’re just on our way through,” Shiro said, struggling to keep steady.  Matt’s safety was his priority, but his desire to clock Dax right there with no prelude could have driven a weaker man mad.

Grinding his cigarette into the pavement with his familiar steel-toed boots, Dax clucked his tongue.  “It’s past your curfew, Shirogane.  You should be more mindful.”  One lackey spat his tobacco for emphasis.

“Shiro…” Matt whispered from behind, pressing close up to Shiro so he could feel the anxiety radiating from him. 

Desperation clawed at Shiro’s insides, but he wouldn’t risk turning his back or averting his eyes for even a moment.  “It won’t happen again, Dax, just let us through.  We don’t want any trouble.”  Shiro managed to withhold any visible reaction as he felt Matt’s discreet reach into the back pocket where Shiro kept his phone.

Dax’s buddies snorted as their leader shifted his weight with feigned consideration.  “Oddly pacifist of you.  Big change of character for the Back Alley Champion.”  His piercing stare shifted to just over Shiro’s shoulder, and Matt held his breath.  “Looks like you’ve gone soft.”

Shiro made no response, as he refused to beg or give any indication Matt’s protection was his only concern, but the slimy grin in the shadows of Dax’s face told Shiro he was already well aware and eager to take advantage of that fact.

It felt as though time had stopped.

“Matt,” Shiro said, a low warning in his voice.  “Go.”

Matt hesitated with panic, but as Dax took a casual step forward, Shiro barked again, “ _Go!_ ”

And like the starting shot at a race, everything unraveled at once.

Dax’s men, automatic, lunged forward.  With adrenaline pounding, Shiro fastened his grip onto the closest one, shoving him into the other as Matt managed to gain some ground away from the scene, but to Shiro’s despair, he stopped to call back when Dax connected his meaty fist to Shiro’s face.

“I told you to stay out of here,” Dax threatened, walking past a disoriented Shiro toward Matt, but Shiro fiercely managed to stay upright enough to barrel into Dax, knocking him off balance.

The maneuver gave Shiro enough time to blindly shout, “Matt, don’t—!” but he was cut off with a kick to the back of the knee, and then pinned to the concrete in one swift motion from one of the smaller opponents. 

Pure adrenaline kept Shiro from reacting to the pain immediately, panic rushing through him when he heard Matt’s ferocious, “ _Get off!_ ” coming back toward the brawl, seemingly oblivious to Dax’s casual approach.

 _Nonononono, Matt, don’t!  God, please!_ Shiro couldn’t manage to say it aloud as his breath was expended trying to dismount his assailant, whose knee was pinching his side just enough to draw a grunt.  With a punch, Shiro broke free, scrambling back to his feet, his only thought the looping wish that Matt’s S.O.S. text reached Keith.

Shiro’s vision narrowed as the second henchman caught Matt in a chokehold, and Shiro could see the panic flash in his face even in the dark as he clawed at the arms restraining him.

 _"Don’t touch him!"_   Shiro spat with raw fury, tucking around Dax and expertly unhooking the hold on Matt, keeping a grip on one arm and yanking it with all he could to send the attacker into the pavement, breath knocked from his chest.

In the same motion, Shiro didn’t give Dax a chance to come closer, swinging madly with aim to the face, but his arm was caught and twisted behind him with infuriating ease. 

“You really have gone soft,” Dax whispered, rancid breath hot against his ear as Shiro was forced to witness the first grunt close in on a still-disoriented Matt, who was focused on the downed assailant behind him.

 _“Matt!_ ” Shiro cried out, desperation shattering his voice, but the space was so limited that by the time Matt turned in response, the approaching thug had already smashed the empty bottle across Matt’s face, sending him careening into the pavement where the other grunt had finally regained footing just in time to step aside.  The snap of his glasses echoing in Shiro's mind, Matt landed hard and lie still.

It was only red after that.  Shiro had gone all but deaf and blind from his own feral responses.  Sporadic flashes of consciousness barely registered more than the sickening crunch of bone, a pleading yelp, and the scattered pounding of shoes against asphalt as muffled voices slowly became clearer over what felt like an ocean in Shiro’s ears.

Gradually, Shiro came back down.  Chest tight as his breath heaved in wheezes, his damp eyes darted to assess his surroundings.  He jerked wildly for a moment against the arms restraining him, but he settled when he recognized Keith’s voice over the din in his mind.

“Shiro,” Keith was pleading, “it’s okay!  Come on, you have to breathe, take it easy.”

Shiro couldn’t help but ignore him as his gaze locked on to the shape of Lance hunched over Hunk a few paces ahead, who was kneeling on the ground to prop up—

 _“Matt!_ ”  Shiro called out for possibly the hundredth time that night.  His voice was strained as he began writhing against Keith’s grip again. 

Keith tightened his hold, stronger than he looked.  “He’s okay, Shiro!  Please, you have to calm down!  You’ll make yourself sick.”

Unable to look away, Shiro’s vision refocused and he could see Matt was struggling to hold his head upright, even with Hunk’s help.  Blood and grime caked his face, and the prior events came back to Shiro in a vivid rush.  Exhaustion, though, barreled into him at the same time, and he couldn’t find the strength to fight against Keith anymore, who was softening his voice to ease Shiro’s panic.

Shiro’s senses at last returned to him in full, and Keith released him slowly so he could take the few heavy steps closer to Matt, practically crawling up next to where Hunk was kneeling with him.

“He’s concussed,” Hunk informed him as Shiro reached out to brush Matt’s damp hair from his face.  “He should be fine, but I called 911; the medics are on the way.”

“Which means so are the police,” Lance added, distressed.  “You’re gonna have to tell them what happened, Shiro.  This probably won’t be pretty for you.”

Shiro barely heard them, hyperfocused on Matt, trying to keep his head from lolling around.  “Matt, can you hear me?” he croaked, wincing as he realized some pieces of glass were still lodged in Matt's skin.

Delayed, Matt tried to meet Shiro’s concerned stare, but he was dazed and fighting to keep his eyes open.  “My head hurts.”

“I know it does.  You’re gonna be okay.”  Shiro could hear the sirens approaching now, managing to keep his voice calm in the same way Keith always did for him.  “Do you know where you are?”

“I’m really tired.”

“Don’t fall asleep just yet, okay?  Tell me the last thing you remember.”

“Is there something on my face?”  Matt began looking around with an expression as though he’d forgotten something.  He lifted a weak hand to touch his face, but Shiro gently held his wrist before he could mess with the cuts.  Matt met his eyes once more. 

“He only had to be out for a second,” Hunk whispered with assurance, keeping his hold of Matt steady, much to Shiro’s appreciation.  “I heard your scream from inside the store, and when I looked out, I saw he wasn’t moving and you were wailing on those guys, but by the time I called the ambulance he was already starting to come back to.  He’ll be okay, maybe just a few stitches in his face.”

As the sirens came ever closer, Shiro tried to breathe through the knots in his throat and chest.  “Matt,” he said again, noticing Keith in his periphery move to soothe Lance in his restlessness.  “You hear that?  You’re gonna be just fine, okay?  I just need you to keep your eyes open a little longer.  Matt.”  Shiro could see he was struggling to stay awake. 

Shiro had been in enough fights during his life to intimately know many injuries, but seeing Matt incapacitated like this hurt more than any wound he could have had himself.

 _I couldn’t protect him…_ Guilt, dark and unrelenting, gnawed at Shiro from deep within as the reality of the situation began to set in, but he tried to shut it out, knowing the responders would arrive soon and he had to stay calm.  Still, he couldn’t help but wish to whatever governing force was out there that Matt’s father was not one of the officers coming to the scene.

Never did Shiro once think he would be so thankful to see police cars and an ambulance stop in front of him.  Hunk and Shiro immediately helped Matt to his feet with painstaking care.  Shiro felt another pang of guilt as he noticed Matt trembling with fatigue.

For a while, events played out in a blur, though Shiro wasn’t quite as detached as during the brawl.  Hunk spoke with a responding officer, detailing what he’d witnessed.  To another officer and a paramedic, Shiro blankly recounted what he remembered before whiting out, where Keith and Lance did their best to report the rest. 

Shiro never took his eyes off Matt, even as they loaded him carefully into the ambulance.  _That seems unnecessary,_ he thought absently.  _He’ll be fine; the ambulance is a bit much, isn’t it?_

“Shiro?”  Keith’s voice brought him back to attention.  “You can probably ride with him to the hospital.  You’re gonna need checked out anyway.  I’ll meet you there.”

Wordless, Shiro blinked at Keith before making his way to the ambulance just as the doors were about to close, asking if he could sit with Matt.  Taking note of Shiro’s injuries, they agreed easily.

Climbing in after the medics, Shiro ached to be closer to Matt, who was looking a little more aware now despite still fighting his drooping eyelids.  Shiro knew he was in the appropriate hands though, so he focused on clenching his aching fists to keep himself from fidgeting.

One medic worked with Matt, picking the glass out of his skin and cleaning him up, while the second started examining Shiro to the extent that she could.  They asked questions to him and Matt both, many similar to what the police had asked, then exchanged some medical garble to each other that Shiro couldn’t process at the moment.  He was growing tired himself, everything feeling far less than real.  He was barely processing the pain from his own injuries, mind focused entirely on Matt and what he should have done differently to have kept them both out of this situation.

“Shiro?”

Matt’s cracked voice snapped Shiro back to attention, and with a quick glance of approval from his attending medic, Shiro slid down the bench closer to Matt, whose eyes were clearer now.  Tentative, Shiro reached for Matt’s hand.  “I’m here,” he said, forcing a smile.

Matt’s gaze searched Shiro’s face with unexpected intensity, and Shiro held his breath, waiting for him to speak.  “Did I get at least one punch in?”

Shiro couldn’t restrain a pained laugh.  Not wanting to damage Matt’s pride right then, and knowing he would eventually remember anyway, Shiro fibbed, “Yeah, you really gave ’em what for.”

However weak, Matt smiled for what felt like the first time in years.  “Nice.”

 

* * *

 

 _Hospital waiting rooms at night are liminal spaces,_ Shiro thought, mostly reciting something he’d read somewhere while trying to distract himself.  In the seat next to him, Keith scrolled through his phone, arm linked through Shiro’s to help keep him grounded.  Over at the desk, Sam Holt spoke with one of the responding officers from the scene and an attending nurse, voices hushed but seemingly calm.  Shiro couldn’t bring himself to look at Matt’s father, convinced that tonight would surely invoke some sort of wrath from him.

“Hey,” Keith said, as if reading Shiro’s mind.  “Everything’s gonna be okay.  You and Matt are both fine.  That’s all that matters now.”

Leg bouncing, Shiro shook his head in frustration, struggling to keep his thoughts in line.  “I was afraid of this from the beginning.”  He couldn’t be sure if he was talking to Keith, or himself, or just out loud to no one.  “I had a feeling that Dax and his guys would find out about Matt and try to use him against me for whatever pointless fucking reputation or turf war bullshit they have or whatever and they did and now he’s—”

“Shiro, come on,” Keith asserted, tucking his phone away and giving Shiro his full attention.  “This wasn’t your fault.”

Shiro’s voice was strained, aching to scream but only able to whisper.  “ _Yes, it is, Keith_.  I knew the danger Matt could be in getting involved with me, but I had to be selfish, and he got hurt, and I could have prevented that,  _but I didn’t._ ”

“It’s just some minor injuries.  Everything’s okay.  You’re not doing anyone any favors blaming yourself for this.”

“Yeah, ‘just minor injuries’ because we got _lucky._ What if you hadn’t shown up, Keith?  What if my phone had been dead so Matt couldn’t send that text?  What if he had been hit just a little harder and didn’t—”  Shiro cut himself off, noticing his voice growing shrill as he swallowed the urge to completely unravel.

“There’s no use thinking about all the ‘what ifs,’ Shiro.”  Keith’s eyes were tired but reassuring as he placed his hands on Shiro’s shoulders, firm.  “You have to stop torturing yourself.  Please.”

Shiro felt as though he’d grown very small, voice no longer his own as it cracked in his chest.  “I couldn’t protect him, Keith.”

“Takashi?  Er, Shiro, sorry.”

Sam Holt’s voice brought both Keith and Shiro’s heads up fast, Shiro quickly looking away in shame.  “Sir, I—”

“Please, call me Sam.  Can I have a word with you?”

Panicked, Shiro exchanged a glance with Keith, who nodded with a final pat on the shoulder before heading toward the vending machine, probably to get something for Lance after he had walked Hunk home.  Sam replaced Keith in the chair next to Shiro, expression indecipherable.

An agonizing moment of silence passed between Shiro and Sam, neither entirely sure of what they needed to tell the other.

“I’m sorry—” they both began at the same time.

Sam held up his hands, insisting he go first.  He spoke with deliberation, ensuring Shiro knew he meant what he said.  “I know I’ve held my prejudices against you.  And I know that right now, it would be very easy for me to get angry and direct blame at you.  But that would be wrong of me because it’s not your fault.”

Sam heaved a tight sigh.

“I don’t know what Colleen and I would do if something were to happen to one of our kids.  And I don’t know what Matt would do if something happened to you.  You’re very important to him.  I understand that.  So all that concerns me right now is that you’re both safe, and I’m very thankful for that.  We can figure out everything else after we’ve all gotten some rest.”

Forgetting what he originally wanted to say, Shiro nodded in gratitude.

“They’ve got him all stitched up, if you want to see him.”

Almost too eagerly, Shiro stood, pausing to exhale a sincere thank-you before making the stiff-legged excursion to Matt’s room.

The door was open, but Shiro stopped just outside the entrance as if blocked by an invisible wall.  Matt was lying down, looking tired and bored, but noticed Shiro standing unsure in the hallway.

“Hey,” Matt said with ease.  Somehow it served as enough invitation for Shiro to step into the room, but he stopped again near the foot of the bed.  He was curiously afraid to come too close.

Matt scrutinized him, and Shiro tried not to stare at the stitches in his face.

“I didn’t actually manage to hit any of those guys, did I?”  Matt asked, back to full alertness, looking amused despite his exhaustion.

Shiro flashed an apologetic smile.  “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, I will when _I_ tell the story.”  Shiro found some relief in hearing Matt resume his ever-prevalent habit of keeping things light, but he couldn’t bring himself to react the way he knew Matt wanted him to.

A beat of silence was punctuated by Matt’s sigh.  “They won’t let me sleep.”

“They have to monitor you overnight.”

“I thought that was only if I can’t hold a conversation.  Are we not having a conversation?”

“They still have to wake you up every few hours to make sure everything’s okay.”

Matt lost some of his spark.  “You sound pretty familiar with the process.”  When Shiro’s only response was to shift his weight in discomfort, he added, “Those guys are the reason you keep showing up all bruised.” 

It wasn’t a question, but Shiro nodded anyway.

“So does this mean I’m now a tried-and-true street fighter?”

Shiro wanted nothing more than to be able to laugh with him, brushing it all off as no big deal, but his mind didn’t work like that.  His guilt blackened the edges of his mind, stinging the back of his eyes with the threat of tears.  “Matt, I’m—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

With nothing else to say instead, Shiro exhaled.

“You can come closer, you know.  It’s not contagious.”

Shiro’s breath was strained, and he moved to Matt’s side with careful pacing, as if moving too fast would somehow cause more damage.  “This never should have happened,” he whispered, taking a resigned seat at the edge of Matt’s bed.

“Stop it,” Matt chided softly, gently tapping a limp fist against Shiro’s jaw.  Shiro caught his wrist before he could draw it back, holding Matt’s hand.  He could tell Matt was trying to exhibit his typical air of nonchalance, but his exhaustion and the effects of the concussion must have been getting the better of him.  His eyes misted over as he said with a tight smile, “If you keep beating yourself up, you’re not gonna _need_ anyone else to do it for you.”

Shiro, with great effort, clenched his teeth and blinked back tears, suddenly unable to look at Matt anymore.  Not missing a beat, Matt tugged against Shiro’s grip to encourage him to lie down on the bed too, wrapping his arms around him.  “Come on, you act like I’m about keel over any second.  A nap and some aspirin and I’ll be good to go.”

Shiro tucked his head under Matt’s chin, managing to fit next to him on the tiny hospital bed.  Matt stroked the back of Shiro’s hair with the intention of a rhythm, but he was so tired he couldn’t maintain the pattern.

“Isn’t this a little backwards?” Shiro mumbled, calmer but embarrassed.  “Shouldn’t I be making you feel better?”

Matt let out a breath of a laugh that tickled the top of Shiro’s head.  “This is kind of a mutual thing, you know.  We can make each other feel better.  Teamwork makes the dream work.”

And at last, in spite of himself, Shiro laughed too.

**Author's Note:**

> Didja make it out okay? Sorry, I know it's a rough read--I know because I had to stop and give myself a breather a few times while writing it lol. But this scene--or at least, the essence of it--has been on my mind since the minute I first created this AU. It's so important to the narrative I have in my head that I actually had to take some time to pause and consider: "Does writing this scene mean I should go all out and write the complete chaptered-novel-esque story?" And it was very tempting, but I chose to do this fic in individual scenes on purpose, for several reasons that we don't have to dive into.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear some feedback for this one. I don't think I've ever written a fight scene before, so I'm just wondering how it all flowed. I know violence scenes are often boring to read when the choreography is all explicitly detailed and bulleted, so I did my best to depict the action along with emotion without making it all too confusing or drawn-out. (I also had to do a lot of fact checking on concussions just to make sure I wasn't exaggerating/undermining the injury, but if anything in that regard is blatantly wrong, do let me know).
> 
> Thanks so much again for reading if you made it all the way down here! I really did put all my heart into this one, it was important for me to write it. This AU has become unexpectedly very special to me lol, and it means a lot other people are enjoying it too. :^) Have a great day everyone! Now go read something a little lighter. :^P


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